5 Times Peter Parker Scares Someone, and 1 Time He Scares Himself
by chocolateowl
Summary: Peter doesn't realize how many times he scares other people until he does.
1. Chapter 1

Of course Flash was the only one who could see through Parker's stupid facade. [He can't help but snort bitterly at the irony, because he knows who really has the facade.]

Smart? Of course not. [Of course he's smart. He's _Parker_.] Parker just has a tendency to get lucky with the most stupidest of answers. Who even knows anything about the atomic structure of Gallium? And yeah, Flash is still faster than him at answering questions. Right or wrong, it's the one constant he's determined to keep.

Parker's still the pathetic nerd who plays with Legos with his equally stupid sidekick. He's the one who's wearing the hand-me-down sweaters, and those disgusting t-shirts that look like they've been dragged through mud half the time. The rest of the shirts are filled with nerdy scientific facts that he can't help but mentally cringe every time he sees them. [His own life is full of suits and custom-designed clothing, clothing for a puppet on strings or for a son of a wealthy businessman.]

And those wimpy glares, oh, those are just gold. Parker can always try to glare at him every time Flash tries to help him understand, but it just fails, and Flash always mentally ends up on the ground in tears of laughter. Parker just accomplishes to look like a baby (ugly) chipmunk trying to snarl at _him_ , the king of the school. [A king with nothing at all.]

He's the idiot who ditched his girlfriend. Parker, the nobody without a social life. The person who actually has to fake an internship to be interesting.

Flash's the one with the money. The brains. The girls. The _everything._ [If only everything came in a box of huddled up figures at 3 AM in the morning trying to count all the people who actually cared about him.] What is Parker exactly?

Idiotic? Check.

Horrible at fashion? Double check.

But terrifying? Parker wouldn't know terrifying if it slapped him around the head.

* * *

"What are those? Star War Lego pieces?"

Flash can't help but snort at the plastic figurines peeking out of Parker's ratty coat jacket. "Are you still that much of baby?" [The same words echo back in his head in his father's voice.]

Parker just looks at him and shakes his head, before turning his back and striding out. [But there's just a hint of _knowing_ that Flash can't stand, because it has to be Parker who would realize, and all he wants to do is slap that knowing glint off his eyes.] Of course Parker would just walk away from him like that. Always the loser, always the coward. [Always the person who would notice the glittery array of masks in his arsenal.]

Flash turns his attention to Leeds, who's still typing away furiously at his trashy phone. They're still trying to ignore his majestic presence [majestic, hah], which he finds quite annoying, but of course he doesn't care. Both of them are nerds. Their opinions don't matter as much as his own, because he owns this world. [He can't help feel like the ignored little boy again, which feels so familiar, it's like a second skin.]

Flash brushes past Leeds forcefully [and maybe it was a tad too forcefully] as he walks out of the hallway, and the next thing he knows, Leeds is sprawled on the ground. His phone is four feet away, lying faceup with a cracked screen.

He lets the little grin curl up at the side of his mouth [like the sadistic bastard he is], letting the waves of awe [disgust] wash over him from the watching bystanders.

No one messes with _the_ Flash.

"Flash."

He whirls around. It's Parker again. But something's different this time. And it surprises Flash, because when did Parker decide to go all ninja at him? What happened to the "I'm going to walk away because I'm a coward" scene? [His heart sinks, but it shouldn't, because he should be glad that Parker isn't going to deal with him anymore.]

Parker's eyes are stone cold. His mouth is no longer still curled up in his typical idiotic smile, flat and foreboding. He actually looks slightly… menacing. Especially considering the fact that he isn't chattering his mouth away like he always does about something that isn't worth listening to.

It doesn't help that Flash sees the curled fists at his side, like he's trying to restrain himself from socking someone in the stomach. But at least he knows his place in the social ranking of the school, because he doesn't move yet. [Sometimes Flash has to wonder how messed he is to let things go so far with this act.]

But not that much of course. Parker is Parker, and if he decides to just use his creepy staring powers to make Flash uncomfortable, it's not going to work. So he stares back stubbornly at Parker's stupid eyes that aren't very terrifying at all.

Parker lets out a tight-lipped smile. "You don't want to do this. Trust me on this one."

When did his annoying squeaky voice get so emotionless?

Okay, Flash might be slightly wrong.

He is a tiny bit terrified.

So when Parker suddenly steps forward, he does not let out an embarrassingly high squeak, because his mouth was closed the whole entire time. Then he hightails it out of the hallway, out of the wide-eyed witnesses, and the not-terrifying Parker staring at him, because of course Flash is nice enough to let him get the win.

Both Parker and Leeds are just cowards. Flash bets that Parker did some sort of eye-surgery to get that effect, because that isn't natural at all. And it's just so Parker that he actually has to cheat and glaring at Flash to get a fake win, because Flash isn't shaken up at all.

But he has to grudgingly admit, that was an okay attempt to try to scare him away. [He spends the night counting with one less person who would care.]

* * *

The next day, Flash hears the incredulous whispers and feels the judging gazes of the people around him as he walks to class. He smirks, because he's still on top of the world, and they've finally realized how kind and caring he is for letting Parker get the victory.

Until he realizes what the whispers are about.

They actually have the absolute nerve to trash-talk him [which is well deserved], with a sort of hero-worship to Parker that he cannot naturally have. How much money is Parker even paying them to do that sort of thing?

There's also a brief whisper about Leeds getting a new phone,worth thousands of dollars, that was anonymously shipped to him in the middle of the night.

That definitely must be Parker, paying Leeds to stay friends with him even longer. [It couldn't be the rich brat who paid for the phone, because said rich brat doesn't have a heart.]

Unbelievable.

He saunters off to class, because he's the only one who's smart enough to realize the stupidity of the other students and know who's the true Parker behind his mask of fake caring. [He wonders how far this is going to go before he _snaps_.]

* * *

He gets a letter late at night that day. It doesn't have the inscribed symbol that his father's letter always contains, which is pretty strange, because no one else has ever sent him a letter. He's just too intimidating for anyone to straight up mail him, because he's the top dog of the school. Unless it's a love letter of course, because he obviously gets a ton of those. [Yeah right.]

He peels open the flap, and gently slides out the letter.

 _Dear Flash,_

 _I just wanted to thank you for buying Ned the phone. He's been ecstatic about the new functions, (something about an interface for real hacking?) and it was pretty cool of you do get him a new device, although you shouldn't have touched my friend in the first place._

 _I've been around Mister Stark long enough to realize what you're trying to do, and really, it doesn't have to be that way. It doesn't work, and you end up with nobody instead of just trying to guard against fake friends._

 _But still, don't push Ned ever again. That was completely uncalled for. But I just want to let you know, you don't have to walk alone for this._

 _Peter_

Flash can't help but snicker because seriously, this is one of Parker's most pathetic attempts to get attention. Does he really expect Flash to be gullible enough to believe that he actually meets with _the_ Tony Stark?

A letter describing how awesome he was would be much better than this field of horse crap. [Although Flash still keeps the letter under his bed.]

* * *

 **There's a lot of stories out there where Flash's just a jerk with no background, and that didn't sit well with me, so here you go. Hope you enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 2

The first time Roger saw that jaded look in someone's eyes was during college.

It was a look that screamed out, " _What's the point of trudging on if I'll just fail again?"_ It was a look that people had when they've truly given up on themselves.

It was in the gaze of the pizza-delivery guy who stared him down as Roger turned around in his chair, waiting to receive the heavenly-smelling pizza. And for goodness sakes, it was a look that a _pizza-delivery_ guy, savior of mankind and all things cheesy, shouldn't have had.

So Roger called the pizza man a hero of men, because it was _true_ , since he was starving and ready to dig into the sticky gloriousness. He got his pizza, and the delivery person got his inspiration. When in doubt, pizza always works better than tape for slapping things together.

Months later, he can't help but hysterically laugh as he watched the same pizza-delivery man pick up a truck and throw it across the road on television. But the guy was a lot more greener, ten times taller than before, and way more muscular, as if he downed a bottle of steroids.

They called him The Hulk.

And to imagine, that same terrifying, green beast used to deliver pizzas.

* * *

Years passed, and Roger became Mr. Harrington. His appearance slowly morphed out of the hippie stage and more of a normal high school teacher. His fondness for tinkering machines and computers turned into days of teaching of math and technology. Even his hair grew thinner, which wasn't a pleasant surprise, although his love for pizza still stayed the same, which honestly, will never change.

Teachers came and went. The love of his life did too, and he spent months moping and eating mint ice cream after she stormed out with a suitcase in hand. He still doesn't think he's completely over her either, because whenever her glowing face pops up in his memory, his heart gives a painful throb.

The students too, some of them pretty strange, but all of them are bright and brilliant. One particularly outgoing kid asked him if he wanted to supervise the Decathlon. Saying yes was one of his best decisions he ever made.

The same student died when drunk driver t-boned their bus that was on the way to the semi-nationals.

He wonders if he also has somewhat of a jaded look now, because there are some days where he just can't stop thinking of what he has lost, and there's an emptiness in his chest that just _aches_.

* * *

There's this kid in his class this year that is just… weird.

No, it's not Michelle. Although he does have to admit, she's strangely perceptive on things that no one else picks up on.

It's Peter Parker.

It's not that he pushes people around or is a jerk or anything. Actually, it's the complete opposite, because if anything, Peter is the kindest kid he's ever seen. He's awkward in a charming way that basically only teens could accomplish, but a pretty typical high schooler.

He's extremely brilliant also. Even if he zones out half the time, or watches Spiderman videos under his desk (seriously, what's up with his obsession), he somehow manages to conjure up the correct answer from midair, like a magician pulling up a rabbit.

But that's not it.

It's the times when Peter staggers in his class late, looking bedraggled in a way that suggests he somehow managed to run through aisles of cacti or tumbled through an extremely pointy rose bush.

It's the times when Peter hands in a homework assignment, apologizing for getting tomato sauce over it. It's only when Roger drives home and inspects the worksheet closer that he realizes that it can't be tomato sauce. He's the pizza expert, and he _knows_ what tomato sauce looks like. Tomato sauce doesn't look like the smudges of red on Peter's paper that are much more darker and… almost rusty looking.

And his lateness is so atrocious at times that it's almost like a talent. There's been weeks where he's been so late, he's nearly missed the whole class, and he only has a hastily written note that suspiciously has the same handwriting as Peter himself.

There's even been times where Peter's actually disappeared off the charts, like yesterday, during the competition near the Washington Monument. How could a kid be unavailable for a competition when he was inside the hotel before they left? It wasn't the city, with its familiar buildings and stores, so it's not like Peter could have just, like randomly wandered off.

He's definitely keeping an eye on this kid.

* * *

It's the _fifth_ time Peter's been late to class. In a row.

He trudges into class in the middle of a calculus lesson, eyes on the ground, looking a lot smaller than usual. His shoulders are slumped, and he isn't as… chatty as he normally is.

Roger mentally sighs. He hates giving _the_ speech.

"Peter, I understand you have other responsibilities, but you can't be late to class and expect to saunter in without any repercussions."

Peter doesn't look up. He nudges an invisible rock with a battered sneaker, and shifts his backpack awkwardly.

"Mr. Harrington, I'm sorry, I really am. Something just came up, and I… it wasn't… it was just a problem and I couldn't stop it. I tried going to school as fast as possible, but then the bus left..."

Roger lets out a regretful breath, because, well school policies. "I still have to give you detention."

Now Peter looks up, and meets his gaze. His eyes are unnaturally dark, and are just plainly _terrifying_.

It's the first time Roger sees him this furious, but he's seen that look before, years ago when he was still in college. If it looked unnatural on the pizza-delivery guy, it looked even more out of place on Peter's usually cheerful face.

Blankly, Peter responds, "There wasn't anything I could've done, Mr. Harrington."

His voice is blank. There's no inflection in the words, no excitement, no sadness, not even anger. It's so off-putting that Roger mentally reels back and has to hunt for words.

"Talk to me after class," he manages to say.

Peter stares at him for one second longer, with that _look_ that shouldn't belong on a teen's face, before sitting down at his seat.

The entire class is silent, staring at Peter, who's rummaging around for a pencil. Roger turns around and finishes the equation, but not before he spots the pencil in Peter's hand slowly get crumpled into wooden splinters.

He is _so_ looking forward to this talk.

* * *

Roger faces Peter as the remaining dregs of students trickle out of the classroom, watching the worn-out way his shoulders slump.

"You really can't keep on doing this."

Peter nods dejectedly. "I know. But when I was going to class, there was a crime going on, and a mugger shot at this poor lady. I couldn't do anything to stop it because I… no, _Spiderman_ wasn't fast enough. She got shot, and she almost _died_ and the ambulance came and it just wasn't fair. And the bus already left so I had to wait for another bus, and it was just a terrible day..."

Roger inwardly winces as Peter glances up, and that look is aimed at him full force. But he clasps Peter's shoulder as he turns away, because no kid should ever feel responsible for something they can't control.

"Don't blame yourself. There wasn't a way you could have done anything."

An exasperated snort falls from Peter's mouth.

"But that's exactly the point. _I could have done something_ , but I was too slow."

Roger shakes his head.

"There's always the 'ifs' and the 'buts', but trust me, there was no way you could have stopped that from happening. Even _Spiderman_ can't predict the future, but he still saved the lady in the end, and honestly, that's what really matters."

Peter opens his mouth to protest, but Roger cuts him off.

"I'm cutting you a break today, but please don't be late again. School policy."

He lets go of Peter's shoulder, and waves him out the door.

"It's not your fault, so don't let it eat you up."

Peter glances back from outside the classroom, and _finally_ , that look is gone from his eyes. He gives a weak smile, but he looks like Peter again, not the devil's incarnate.

"Thanks, Mr. Harrington."

* * *

 **The whole Mr. Harrington meeting Bruce is canon actually, did some research on that scene. Otherwise, I hope the whole "Roger" thing wasn't too awkward, since personally, calling a teacher by their first name is _weird_. Thanks whoever reviewed, faved, and followed, because that made my day, and hope you enjoy this one!**


	3. Chapter 3

There was no way _Ned_ could be friends with a superhero, let alone be _best buddies_ with one.

Yet a few minutes ago, he was walking next to _Spiderman_ , arguing who the best Star Wars character was, because C-3PO was definitely way cooler than Chewbacca. If Peter didn't crawl in that day from the window, upside-down and in the coolest suit ever, Ned would have never guessed that ordinary Peter, uneducated in the ways of Star Wars, was Spiderman.

It was just so unrealistically awesome and fantastical that Ned couldn't help but feel that everything he'd experienced in the last few days was just a dream.

And the powers, Peter actually had _real-life_ powers that he could use, like Captain America and his super-strength and it was just, so, incredible.

He could climb walls like nobody's business. His flips were insane. Even his reflexes were top notch, and Ned's favorite hobby soon became let's-throw-stuff-at Peter-and-see-if-he-catches-it. And Peter had never lost once, even when Ned once threw a paint can in frustration into the air, and even if the laws of gravity said that the paint should end up all over the ground, Peter was already there, gently placing down the can without a drop out of place.

Ned can't help but absentmindedly wonder about other powers Peter could do, which is more interesting to think about than the swarm of equations on the blackboard. He could even become Peter's guy in the chair, and spy on all his missions, and how _amazing_ was that idea?

He pokes Peter in front of him, who is scribbling furiously something in his notebook. It's probably related to the notes on the blackboard, but who knows, it could even about his superhero duties, which again sounds _so_ cool.

He suddenly blurts out, "Can you summon an army of spiders?"

Peter doesn't look back, his hand still flitting back and forth in his notebook, but he hisses, "No Ned."

"How far can you shoot your webs? If I were you, I would go on the roof and shoot them as far as I could, and..."

" _Ned_. Shut up."

"Oh wait, can you lay eggs? _No way_ , that's weirdly disgust-"

Peter splutters, hard, and his hand falters. "What? _No,_ no Ned, I can't lay eggs, what… why… why would you even _think_ that?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to judge you."

" _I. Don't. Lay. Eggs._ "

"And that's what they all say-"

"NED."

Ned holds back a snicker. " _Fine_ , you don't lay eggs. Don't get your spidey spandex in a twist."

* * *

The screens of code flicker by, showing lines of disabled functions blinking out of existence. Ned even swears that one of the options says _Instant Kill Mode_ before being replaced with the gazillions of other lines of code.

He really doesn't think this is a good idea.

Across the hotel room is Peter, bouncing on the bed like a frustrated puppy. The tracker previously in the suit is plastered on the lamp, and god, Ned really doesn't feel too confident with this plan.

"Mister Stark can't treat me like a kid."

Ned eyes Peter's short stature still bouncing around on the bed, and the realization smacks him straight in the face that his voice still sounds like a teenage girl. It's not like he didn't notice before, but it's the first time he really does _notice_.

"You _are_ a kid."

Peter hops off the bed and migrates over to watch Ned's work. "A kid who could catch a bus with his bare hands."

Red sirens start to go off in Ned's head as the dreaded puppy look begins to take shape in Peter's eyes.

"What if this is illegal or something? I really, really don't think we should-"

"But then we can stop these bad guys and their weapons. I can handle this Ned, don't worry."

Honestly, this is ridiculous. When did Ned become the more responsible of the two? It was supposed to be Peter's job to be logical, which is why he has absolutely no idea why Peter's risking so much to disable the suit functions that must have been disabled for a reason.

"Look, you're the guy in the chair..."

And of course Peter has to bring out that one card, and combined with his puppy eyes at full power, Ned knows that this conversation is over.

As he types in the code to disable the Training Wheel Protocol, he hears Peter's exhausted sigh, as if he's trying to lug around weight the world on his back, and it's the first time Ned wonders if being a superhero is really as simple as it looks.

* * *

It's nearly the end of the school year, and Ned's pulling out folders and bulky textbooks from his locker, when he spots Peter walking down the hallways.

Peter walks up to the locker next to him, breathing hard in a way that Ned hasn't seen him do in months, and begins to input his locker combo with a deft twist of his fingers. His hand is shaking minutely, and he's gulping down air in short, hurried gasps, and it's kind of freaking Ned out, because he's never seen Peter like that before.

"You alright?"

Peter glances back with a harried look, but his tone is relatively cheerful as he drags out books from his locker and shoves them in his backpack.

"I was just doing some Spiderman stuff. Something happened, and I got caught up for a bit."

As he slams his locker shut and turns away, Ned spots the huge red stain seeping through his jacket and his brain _freezes._ The red is dripping onto the ground, and he's honestly terrified because Peter, a wall-swinging superhuman, actually _stumbles_ and nearly falls over.

" _Peter_."

And Peter sees Ned's incredulous look of horror, and glances down, and it's then that he suddenly seems to realize how bad it looks. He gives a grimace and tries to shift his backpack to hide the stain.

"Can I just say that I spilt a ton of tomato sauce on myself?"

"Peter, that's nearly your _whole side_."

Peter winces, and gives Ned an apologetic look. "Not been my best idea, but it should heal up soon. Seriously, I just need to find a new change of clothes."

And of course, he tries to move away, but stumbles again and Ned can't choose between going into a meltdown or facepalming, but it doesn't hide the fact that he's really, really, frightened.

"You're not going anywhere. I'm getting the nurse."

" _No_ , you can't."

Peter collapses against the wall, and slowly slides down, looking resigned. "We can't have them figuring out that I've got these weird super healing powers and stuff."

Ned can't help but feel a small feeling of warmth at the "we", but he pushes the sensation away because his friend is _literally dying_ , and he just has to act like a five year old kid. "Do you have anywhere else to go?"

Peter crosses his arms. His hands are definitely shaking now, and Ned bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from blurting out for help.

"Can we just… get a Band-Aid or something? I'll be fine once this stops bleeding."

His voice is growing way too faint to be considered "fine".

Ned has never grabbed Peter's phone from his backpack as fast as he does now, because Peter's eyes are closing, and the red stain is smearing the wall and he doesn't know what to do.

He enters the password, and blindly rings the first number that pops up in the contacts, hoping it's Aunt May, and not a random person from Australia or something.

The phone rings.

"Tony Stark extraordinaire here. Kid, why are you calling in the middle of class?"

* * *

It takes eleven stitches to get Peter's stab wound to close, even with his super healing powers.

If Ned isn't so exhausted, he would be absolutely fangirling over Mister Stark, who's sitting right across from _him_ , outside the room where Peter's being kept. But he can't wrap his head around the fact that if he didn't do anything, Peter would have most likely lost enough blood to…

Yep, not going to be thinking about that.

"Ned. It's Ned, right?"

Ned looks up sharply, and, no way, Mister Stark actually remembers his name.

He manages out to squeak, "Yep Mister Stark," and great, he sounds like a soprano singer now.

Mister Stark nods as he taps his super awesome looking phone, and Ned can't help feel a bit guilty because he should just be worrying about Peter, not staring at cool futuristic phones.

"You did good kid."

Ned chokes on nothing. "What? I mean, yes, Mister Stark, thank you Mister, I uh… appreciate it."

Mister Stark glances up from the glowing holograms, seemingly amused behind his blue-tinted shades, before looking down again.

"Our Spidey friend over there just has to learn the difference between 'moderate' and 'extremely dangerous'. You were right to call me when he decided to do the 'extremely dangerous' stunt."

He stands up, sliding his phone into his pockets. "Take care of him. I've got an extremely boring meeting in a few minutes, but if anything comes up, raise a ruckus."

He strides out and leaves Ned behind, slack-jawed.

If this was somehow all a dream, he's going to so regret it when he wakes up.

But, Ned muses as he glances at Peter's door, he's glad that he's just the guy in the chair because being a superhero is way, _way_ harder than most people make it out to be.

* * *

 **This a bit more cliche, but writing in Ned's POV was super fun, so I hope this chapter turned out fine. Thanks to anyone who faved, followed, and reviewed!**


	4. Chapter 4

It's one of those days when Tony can't help but grab his hair and ground his teeth, wondering where did it all go _wrong_.

His life is a time loop. Forget finding the ends, forget searching his way out, because there is _no way_ he's able to find the end of the line. It's just going to repeat itself over, and he can't find the button to exit this nightmare.

No matter what he's doing, he's churning out his demons as fast as they are being taken care of. When he's the one with the big stick, people die, families broken apart, and it's like he's somehow in center of the world, because how is he breeding this much catastrophe?

He literally _made_ Ultron. The suit of armor around the world, the solution to world peace, and look how that turned out. Couple hundred people dead as a doorknob lying six feet underground, and Sokovia utterly destroyed.

Even if you take the creepy dreams into account, Tony still had a hand stuck in the twisted machinery called fate. He was the one who created the Scarlet Witch. His weapons that were once his nuclear deterrent, what did they cause?

If people create their own demons, and Tony can't seem to stop the flow of enemies, then what sort of monster does that make him?

Conflict breeds catastrophe.

He _is_ conflict.

And the closer people get to him, the more they can sniff it out. When he was a toddler, he literally _bathed_ in conflict, watched as Howard and his mom screamed at each other and studied the way how smiles were plastered on SI competitors. The first lesson he learnt in the business world was that vipers only lose if another viper outsmarted them.

He grew fangs and created poison. Sank his fangs into others and drained out their usefulness because that's what he's always been taught.

Conflict _is_ his hometown. He thrives in conflict, excels at riling people up at the right moment so he can get the most information out of them. And people realize that as soon as they cross the invisible line into Tony's heart. Some people tell Tony to embrace his talent. Others frown disapprovingly, and try to get him to change his tempo.

But one thing's for certain. People flee once they realize how utterly irreparable Tony is. And if they do have enough guts to stick around long enough, fate decides to flip him the bird and wipe all the strays out.

Again, it's a time loop.

First it's his mom, and her sweet piano melodies, then it's the real Jarvis and his mothering, and then it's the bravest person he knows, Yinsen, who dies to a burst of gunfire. Then Obadiah shows his real face, and then the remains of Agent's bloody Captain America cards get slammed on the table, and then somehow Pepper's gone too. Then it's the other Jarvis, _his_ AI and companion, who sacrifices himself just so Tony could _use_ him to create Vision, and then still, half the Avengers leave to be with Cap, and Rhodey's down and crippled.

Even when Pepper does return eventually, he's already got plans to build higher walls around his heart. Because no one, absolutely _no one's_ going to strut and slam the door in Tony's face again. Only he's allowed to do that because _hello_ , it's Tony's home.

No more mi casa es tu casa sort of thing, because he's the boss.

* * *

When Tony feels a huge spike of panic at the motionless body covered in spandex on the pavement ground, he knows he's in big trouble.

God, he's met the kid for like what, two hours in total?

But his mind isn't occupied on that, because he's busy calculating distances and strengths instead, and he's not letting Peter out of his sight until he's certain that nothing has happened. His fall reminds him too much of Rhodey's smoking shell plummeting to earth, like a shooting star.

In fact, Rhodey's exactly like a fallen angel, because seriously, he's dealt with _the_ Tony Stark for decades, and for some reason, hasn't gone completely insane yet.

Or at least, it doesn't seem like he's gone insane, unless Tony counts the time when Rhodey accidentally drank a mug of coffee from Tony's special stash. He still has the video available for blackmail.

His calculations finally slow down, and Tony lets out an inaudible sigh of relief because Peter's probably not going to die anytime soon. Or at least, not on his watch for now. But those broken ribs… those really look painful, ouch.

"Kid, wake up."

Peter's eyes shoot open, and Tony has to grab his flailing arms, because his eyes are so filled with fear that it makes Tony feel a bit sick at the thought of what Peter was feeling.

"Calm down kid, it's me. Same sides."

The animalistic fear recedes from Peter's eyes. "Oh… oh, okay." He takes in a gulp of air, but his breathing noticeably calmed down, and… "Hey man."

Tony gives him one of his looks that feel suspiciously like the ones Pepper gives to him, but it doesn't seem to work with the helmet covering his face. "Stay _down_ kid. You're done for today."

Peter manages to look scandalized, which is a miracle since he's still wearing half of the spider mask. "Mister Stark, I'm not done yet."

"Well now you are."

Great, he's actually mothering the kid now.

* * *

Now, whenever he isn't drowning himself in lab work, or slightly overdosing on caffeine, he's reading all the messages Peter sends about his "friendly neighborhood spider" thing or whatever it is.

He has to grin at some of the more… interesting scenes that Peter helped out with. Webbing a guy who was just trying to get inside his own car? Now _that_ was classic.

He can't bring himself to respond though, because it feels a lot more like attachment that way, and he can't allow anyone else through his door.

It's like the whole phrase of "see no evil, speak no evil, and hear no evil" because if he doesn't respond, maybe Peter would finally realize that he would be better without him. Tony's not going to let him be one of his victims, not this time.

But for now, he's content to read Peter's messages when he's forcing himself to stay awake with coffee and work, because the nightmares keep pouring into his sleep. His dreams are all about the coldness of space, the snow and the sand, and hands prodding at the hole in his chest.

No one's with him anymore, and maybe it's better that he dreams alone because he's done so much mistakes and everyone else is paying for it.

* * *

Then there's the ferry incident. Peter's finally stopped messaging him, which he obviously doesn't care about, not one bit, and Tony has the suit.

He still can't come to terms with how close Peter actually faced death.

He also can't help remembering the "I'm nothing without this suit" plead from Peter, and it's disconcerting to how… familiar that statement is.

Tony can't let Peter fall down the same whirlpool, so voila, no more suit, because Peter _has_ to realize that he is much, _much_ more than a lousy piece of fabric with a bunch of fancy coding. He's learnt the lesson himself only when he actually broke in the (fake) Mandarin's house and completely showed how badass he was. Maybe Peter could do the same thing.

Of course, it would be under much more safer conditions, because he doesn't want to ruin the kid like he always manages to do with other people.

But he's still going to add some more adjustments to the suit, perhaps create a new suit altogether, just in case. It never hurts to be extra cautious at times, although he might be going a bit overboard with the new suit when he adds extra legs.

* * *

And of course, fate just has to come and cackle in his face because Happy phones him a couple of months later and "Hey boss, I think your kid just dive-bombed a plane into an amusement park that got hijacked by Vulture."

What. The. Hell.

Happy hurriedly hangs up.

The next day, news reports talk about the destruction of the amusement park and the collapse of a warehouse, and _god_ , nearly the whole beach is on fire.

He can't ignore Peter anymore, because it's obviously not working, and it would be all Tony's fault again if he actually died because he was wearing one of his flimsy homemade _things_. Maybe actually raising Peter's self-confidence rather than shoving him in a situation without protection would be a better idea, and he can't help but mentally slap himself for taking away the suit in the first place.

Well, now he's going to try for the more "hands on approach" because he would do anything for the kid. Which honestly, absolutely terrifies him.

Trust feels like the hands of Obadiah digging into his chest, and the sharp pain of a shield shattering his reactor. It's full of the smiles of spies and partners and businessmen, and prickles with slow sensation of freezing to death.

But he's willing to risk going through that again because Peter is _his_ kid, and no one is allowed to take away his stuff, even when the end of the world is near and the skies are raining hellfire and ash.

* * *

 **Hehe, see what I did there with the last sentence? I tried adding a bunch of references in this chapter, because Tony has a ton of good ones, but hopefully he's still in character. Anyways, thanks whoever faved, reviewed, and followed; I love reading what you guys think of the chapters.**


	5. Chapter 5

If May had the split-second choice to teleport out of a single situation, she would have chosen to do so now.

But she couldn't escape the cloying scent of roses and tulips, and the masses of black figures. Even if she would rather be at home, trying to fill the waves of grief with ice cream, she couldn't miss this moment.

It just wasn't right.

Her husband, the most patient man in the world, was just...

Gone.

She watches the coffin and the people lining up to say their prayers, and then it hits her that he's gone. The overwhelming feeling of loss pulls her deeper into the ocean as she realizes that she won't ever see Ben's mischievous smile, or hear his calming voice after a hard day. It's just like drowning, but it's her heart that can't get any air, not her lungs.

It just _hurts_ so much, and for a moment, she just wants it to stop. But she would rather feel this ache then feel nothing at all because Ben deserves more. He deserves to be alive, but then a pathetic piece of trash decided to get all trigger-happy, and now this happened, so the least she can do is pay her proper respects.

Besides her, Peter let out a muffled sob and she turns to see him brush his eyes, and her heart goes out to him. She opens her arms, and he leans in, the stiff suit starchy against her arms, trembling slightly. A surge of anger flows through her against any messed-up being in the heavens that decided let this happen.

But the anger quickly fades away, and the consuming sorrow envelops her again, because no matter what, Ben isn't coming back, and it's just so _hard_ to accept it. A couple of days ago, he was full of life and smiling at her, and now, he's in a silent coffin, and it just doesn't make any sense why this would happen.

Peter's voice is muffled when he croaks out, "I could have stopped it."

May's heart breaks again, and she doesn't know how much more she could take. "Sweetie, it wasn't your fault."

Peter gently detaches himself from her arms, staring his black suit, and breathes out, "That's the point. If I did something sooner, and actually sto-"

May interrupts him with a tighter hug. She whispers, "You didn't do anything wrong," and something seems to crumble within Peter, because he breaks downs into choked sobs.

She holds Peter's heaving shoulders closer, and wishes for the day to be over.

* * *

The days just weren't the same anymore without Ben.

The apartment is strangely silent now, and there's hardly enough food to go around because she's the only one supporting the family now. The ache in her heart is a constant now, and what's even worse is that there's always a part of Ben lying around to remind her what could have been. Last night, his jacket was found draped on her bed, and she spent the night failing to fall asleep while clutching the piece of clothing.

And she's really worried about Peter, because he's… _changed_.

Before the incident, his talent was literally being able to talk a million words per second, but now he's just so quiet and withdrawn. On the really bad days, she even wonders if the boy in front of her was actually her Peter, because it wasn't like him.

The best way to describe it is that he's just gotten more…

Intense.

It's a weird way to say it, and not necessarily a bad thing for most people to have, but on Peter, it's just wrong and creepy, since he's always the optimistic one. Now, his smile is nearly nonexistent, and there's this look in his eyes shouldn't even be there.

On some days, she's even spotted him crouched against the wall, head in his arms, shivering. Everytime, Peter tells her that it's nothing, but his dilated eyes and harsh breathing say otherwise. He calls it a bad day. Google calls it a panic attack.

If she actually had the money, she would have called up a therapist already, but right now they hardly have enough food to get them throughout the day.

For the billionth time, she wishes that Ben was still alive.

* * *

When _Tony Stark_ compliments her on her walnut date loaf, she knows that something's up.

Rule number one in the apartment is to never eat May's food unless desperate measures need to be taken. She has a bad habit of confusing the ingredients with each other, and she's pretty sure she accidently mixed up the sugar with the salt for this loaf of bread. So there was no way the billionaire in front of her isn't planning something.

The bewildered expression on Peter's face solidifies her suspicions, but she decides to let them go, because it's the first time in months when he gets that excited glint in his eyes.

As she watches them stride over to Peter's room, she absentmindedly thinks back to that time when Peter used to dress up in Ironman masks. Once, he even came home babbling about shooting robots and Ironman and saving the world or something like that.

If Tony Stark breaks her kid's heart, she's going to chase after him with a spatula.

* * *

She has no idea what's going on with Peter. Currently, all signs point to some sort of drug trafficking, because he actually _sneaks_ out at night, but she knows Peter, and he's way too good of a kid to do something like that.

Hence, her dilemma. She doesn't even know how he sneaks out, so she can't exactly tail him.

But the good thing is that Peter's more or less back to his old self. He's back to rambling with a smile, and he's even started to throw puns back at her. There are some glimpses still where he randomly gets all quiet, and when she glances at him, he looks unbearably tired, but it's so quick and no one notices except for her.

No one really knows how much he holds himself responsible for the things he can't control, which is extremely worrisome, since he can't stay out of anything.

She doesn't even think his friends know about Ben, so she can't help but worry, since she's the only one who's really seen Peter in that… mood. Without knowing that aspect of Peter's life, it's hard to understand what makes him tick, especially since he's eerily good at hiding things he wants to keep hidden. If he relapses again, he still has no one to turn to except her.

It's still progress though, and she's extremely glad that Tony Stark managed to cheer him up, but something just feels... off.

When she gets the phone call about Peter ditching detention, her heart drops.

* * *

"Peter, you _have_ to tell me what's going on. This isn't fine."

She's called five police stations, and she's been hysterical for the whole day, and then Peter decides to saunter in like there's nothing wrong. This isn't something to ignore, because she's given him enough time to explain himself, and now he's decided to throw everything away by leaving detention in the-

"I lost the Stark internship."

And when she hears that quiet voice again, her heart stops _again_.

Peter looks up at her, and that motivation he had for the last couple of months isn't there in his eyes anymore. He grimaces, and adds, "I screwed up."

May sighs, and her anger flees because he looks so small and tired, and she wraps him in a hug. "It's okay."

He quietly says, "I just thought, you know… that he would be… if I just worked hard enough, he would realize and…"

She holds him tightly like she does at the funeral, and lets him trail off. In her mind's eye, May counts how many spatulas she has in her kitchen cabinet that she can use against Tony Stark, because she is absolutely _pissed_.

Unfortunately, a person with an armful of spatulas apparently can't go through security at the Avengers Tower.

* * *

Peter somehow gets back the Stark internship, and May is super confused, because she doesn't even know what's happening anymore.

But he's happy again, and that's all what matters really, since he's safe. No crazy gun-shooters, no buildings collapsing, and definitely no jets lighting things on fire. She's extremely thankful that he was nowhere near that Spiderman person when that whole ruckus sprung up.

As she's bustling around in the kitchen (maybe she'll try one of those walnut date loaves again), she hears Peter faintly ask, "May?"

She drops the bag of flour she's holding, and quickly walks towards Peter's room. His door is strangely wide open, and then she spots the symbolic red and blue suit, and what, is that _Peter's_ hair… wait, that definit-

"What the fu-"

* * *

 **The last scene in Homecoming absolutely cracked me up; that version of Aunt May is pretty awesome. Again, thanks whoever reviewed, faved, and followed (I'm still pretty surprised how much people commented, thanks a ton!), and I hope you guys enjoy!**


	6. Chapter 6

There's just this feeling in the air that's making Peter's spidey senses tingle.

It's not exactly the "RUN, you're going to be eaten by that hairy six-foot monster" feeling, but there's enough dread in the air to keep Peter jumping every time someone taps him on the shoulder.

And it really does sucks, because he has two exams today, and he can't exactly afford to jump three feet in the air when someone asks him for a pencil. Apparently that's bad for secret identities and all that coolness.

At least no one seems to be interrogating him, because he's knocked over three desks today and smacked a cup filled with pencils off the table. But Mr. Harrington's giving him really weird looks, and Ned's been mothering over him a lot more than usual. Even MJ hasn't been calling him a loser, which is kind of worrisome.

"-eter. Earth to Peter? Helloooo, anyone home? PETER."

It's Ned's voice, but it's just so _hard_ to concentrate with the constant thrumming of danger. His spidey senses are definitely going haywire, and it's just so annoying that he can't figure out why.

Peter looks up and woah, Ned's face looming over him, and how did he get so close all of the sudden? Behind the lunch table, MJ is staring at Peter… with a really weird expression on her face. Was she mad?

Peter blinks confusedly, "Hi?"

But MJ's face isn't as scowly as it would have been when she's actually mad. Could it be… exasperation? Concern?

"-ou're blanking out on us again, Peter."

It's MJ again, and that definitely sounds like concern, because again, she never uses his real name. Vaguely, Peter wonders if the end of the world is near, because MJ mixed with concern? Those two ingredients don't exactly go together.

He's busy musing about what type of cake MJ and concern would make (probably the cake's equivalent to pineapple pizza) as he responds with a wince, "Sorry, it's just…"

He trails off, because a wave of chills runs through his body, and this is really, really freaky because it's familiar feeling, but he can't place his finger on it. A warm arm wraps around him, and he can't help but burrow into the warmth, because it's suddenly super cold for no reason at all. He still can somewhat comprehend the whispering in the background, but he's just focusing on keeping his mind off the jittery feeling.

"-eally shivering now-"

"-hair on his arms are standing up."

"-hink we should contact the nurse?"

Slowly, the feeling fades, but the panicky atmosphere still is somewhat lingering, because all Peter wants to do is fight or flight. Both are definitely not a good ideas to do, because _hello_ , secret powers here, and people might be a bit suspicious if they see him upside down on the ceiling. But it's still an improvement, and finally, he can comprehend the heated whispering conversation between MJ and Ned.

MJ's hissing, "What if this keeps on going? I don't have the money to buy funeral flowers" before Peter wearily taps her on the nose, and gives her a mock dejected look.

"Wow, not even a fancy gravestone for your best buddy?"

Suddenly the arm around Peter tightens, and it's attached to Ned, and he's somehow transformed the bro hug into one of those cheesy, teary hugs.

Ned's voice breaks as he says, "Don't you _dare_ scare me like that again. This is like what, the millionth time?"

MJ's worried expression smooths out, but she still gives a tiny frown towards Peter.

"Completely agree with Ned. You don't pay us enough for being your friends, mister."

Peter sticks out his tongue, but can't help but mentally agree, because the image of a worried MJ is stuck in his mind, and Ned's still clutching him like he's going to disintegrate into ash. A flash of the old self-deprecation he had when Ben… happened pops up, but quickly scrambles away because MJ's giving him the raised eyebrow.

Seriously, she must have gotten psychic powers before because she always knows when they've tiptoed into a fragile area. It's just like magic, and Peter's almost tempted to randomly ask her if she's went to Hogwarts yet.

MJ pokes a bit of the lettuce in her sandwich. "But honestly, what was that exactly?"

Peter shrugs, and eyes his own hamburger, because it's still looking super good, and now that his chills dialed down a bit, he can hear his stomach growling. He responds after swallowing a mouthful of deliciousness, "Just a random feeling."

Ned and MJ both give him twin are-you-seriously-messing-with-me-right-now glares, and he quickly reasserts, "Probably something to do with my spidey senses going crazy or something. I didn't get much sleep yesterday because of homework."

Actually, he didn't get much sleep because of a six-foot, hairy monster that was chasing him down the streets during patrol, but he's not going to tell them that, because hey, he wants to live. Anyways, yesterday's fight was pretty epic because there was just so much hair on the monster, and he got to spit out puns while stringing him up ("Looks like you've got yourself in a pretty _hairy_ situation, Tarzan!").

Ned nods, accepting his explanation grudgingly, but MJ still narrows her eyes at him like she knows that something's still off (it's the magic), before shrugging minutely and stealing a piece of pizza off of Ned's plate.

As Ned looks at MJ, scandalized, Peter cheerfully announces, "I call stealing the next one!"

Dramatically, Ned gasps, "Et tu, Peter? I can't handle both my friends betraying me."

MJ just gives Ned a deadpan look as he waves an arm at her for emphasis. Then with Ned's full attention, she opens her mouth in an agonizingly slow pace to take a bite out of the cheesy goodness.

Ned's horrified expression, as if MJ just ate his baby in front of him, was _so_ worth it.

"Are you seriously kidding me? I'll have you arrested for pizza theft."

Peter shakes his head in mock disapproval, unsuccessfully keeping his grin away as he says, "MJ, I thought you knew better than to deal in big crim…"

The word disintegrates in Peter's mouth before he can finish, and suddenly, the dread inside of him magnifies (what's up with all these mood swings, like seriously spidey sense, just pick a feeling). He shifts back in his seat uneasily as another shiver runs up his spine.

 _Crime._

Why's that such a big deal at this moment? It's not like he's going to skip off to patrol in the middle of a school day.

MJ laughs, and responds with another jab, but Peter isn't listening anymore, because he's just remembered the last time he's had that feeling, and oh god, now the dread is filling up his body, since he can't let it happen again.

The last time he felt the same paranoia in the air was the day when Uncle Ben was murdered.

* * *

Peter's on patrol, and he's supposed to be concentrating on swinging from building to building, but his spidey senses are going nuts again. It's even worse this time though, because it's everything that screams danger, and nobody's even talking so he can't exactly get the shrillness to stop.

There's literally _nothing_ to stop.

He miscalculates the next webshot because the persistent phantom shrieking isn't shutting up, and suddenly he's free falling, complete with flailing arms and all. Frantically, he aims his shooters upwards, hoping he didn't mess up his calculations for velocity, because then his momentum would be wrong. Wrong momentum equals one dead spider lying on the floor, which isn't exactly good for his health.

But really, it's kind of hard to be precise when he's hurtling towards the ground, especially since he has to calculate how far he traveled every millisecond. He would much rather panic when seeing the ground hurtling towards him at breakneck speeds than do math.

His mind decides to switch on autopilot, and he mentally pumps his fists in the air after he involuntarily executes a perfect follow-up swing. Then he adds two flips and a back-handspring before tucking into a roll and landing on his feet. It might have been a bit unnecessary, but Peter doesn't do things in small chunks. If he has to take a slice of bread, he might as well swallow the whole loaf.

Speaking of bread, he's pretty sure May's making her walnut date loaf today, and the thought alone is enough to make him stumble.

And that just went way off topic.

He mentally gives himself a slap on the forehead because he really has to concentrate, before stiffly swinging himself on the next building. The stupid shrill sound is still reverberating throughout his head, and normally he would have called quits by now, but he _can't_. Not now, not when he actually knows the significance behind the feeling of dread.

Then he faceplants into a glass window, and he grits his teeth, because it's going to be a very _very_ long evening.

* * *

An hour later of endless shrieking, and Peter's almost ready to go home, because it's like 3 AM in the morning, and he still has to finish his calculus homework. He's swinging back to his apartment before a gunshot echoes in the air, and-

Wait.

Was that MJ?

Before he realizes it, he's in front of MJ's motionless body lying on the sidewalk, blood trickling down her side, and not again, no no no, it can't be happening, not _her_. The feeling of deja vu is overpowering, because it's happening, he can't stop it again.

She's so frighteningly silent, and horror is welling up in his chest, because only hours ago, she was laughing along with Ned and him, teasing how she beat him on the history exam. But right now, the lamplight is washing over her pale face, and she is just so unnaturally quiet.

He wants to scream.

His spidey senses alert him before the sound of footsteps do, and he neatly flips away from MJ just before a bullet soars through the exact same place he was standing a second before. A shadowed figure is holding a gun a few meters away, holding a stuffed duffle bag.

MJ… he… it was...

It was all because of the _money_?

The stranger reloads his gun with another click, and silently aims it at him again when he snaps from the pure _fury_ that's running through his veins because MJ, hilarious, snarky _MJ_ was murdered just because of a few green pieces of paper?

Something inside of him disintegrates into dust as he snarls and leaps towards the robber as the next gunshot rings out, and misses. He sends the other person to the ground, and the gun clatters on the pavement a couple of yards away.

His hands wrap around the other person's neck, and he squeezes, hard, and hears the spluttering of the person beneath him. His limbs are flailing, like a fish in air, and he's not going to let go, because one of the best people he's ever met was dead, because of _him_.

It's justice served on a cold platter, because that's what he deserves.

The white hot fury in his chest doesn't relent as the movements of the person underneath him slowly become limp. He can see the robber's chest stop moving, and still, he keeps his hands around the other's throat.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. A life for a life.

"Peter."

Through the fog of anger, Peter could hear the voice, faint and hoarse from pain. It's familiar… but he can't focus on the voice long enough to recognize it.

"Peter. You're better than this."

It's coming from behind him, and he absentmindedly wonders why his spidey senses haven't gone nuts yet as he turns and-

MJ's clutching at her bullet wound on her side, staring at him.

She's alive.

"Peter. Please."

Her voice is filled with desperation. But she's _alive_.

"Unclench your hands."

He finally sees the fear in her eyes as he looks down confusedly, and then spots the person's limp body in his grasp. His chest is barely rising and falling.

Oh.

He drops him.

Behind him, MJ let's out a weary sigh of relief, as the wail of sirens comes roaring down the road, and Peter quietly slips away before the light reaches him. He looks back to see MJ and the robber safely being put on stretchers, before he swings home.

At his apartment, he lies awake in his bed, staring at his hands.

* * *

It's been a couple of days since… Peter almost killed someone, and he knows he should be getting his act together, but…

He can't swim above the guilt, and the fact that he was almost a _murderer_ drags him down until he can't concentrate on anything except remembering the feel of skin under his hands. Even worse, he can tell he's worrying everyone.

May has been fussing over him with that worried, tired look in her eyes that looks much too familiar to his liking, the one that he swore would never again happen because no one deserved to end up taking care of him when Ben… happened. But here, it's happening again, and of course he has to be the one who breaks his promises.

At school, Ned's been shooting him concerned looks the whole entire lunch period every week, and during their daily Lego Star ships creations. Even _Flash_ asked him if he was alright, even though he followed that with a gruff, "I can't let my rival be too out of shape, or it'll be too boring."

Gossip about MJ and the robber already has spread throughout the entire school, and he can't help but violently flinch away everytime someone mentioned the thick purple bruises found on the robber's neck. It didn't take long for Ned to add two and two together, and on the third day, he jabbed Peter softly, and gave him some of his pizza. "It wasn't your fault."

Peter gave him a weak smile in response, but of course it was his fault, who else would it be? He had the warnings, he could have stopped the whole shooting incident before it even happened, he should have paid attention to that tingly feeling more, but he didn't. And now MJ's at the hospital, and he nearly killed a _human_ , a living human with his bare hands, and how was it not his fault?

But he nodded to Ned, who looked a bit more relieved, and took a small bite of the pizza.

It's his fault.

* * *

The building's falling around him, and he's looking down at the writhing robber underneath his hands, but he can't let go, because he can't move.

The robber changes to Ned, and then to MJ, who's staring at him with horror in her eyes, the same horror that she was looking at him with on the ground with a bullet in her side. He tries to lessen his grip but it grows tighter instead, and she's pawing at his hands, trying to make him let go. He can feel her growing weaker, and then she slowly becomes limp in his hands.

The dust rains down heavier, and the cracks in the building grow.

Too late, he stumbles back, as his hands unglue from MJ's body. The air is thickening, and with a big _crack_ , the ceiling falls down on him, as he watches MJ's prone body disappear within the billowing dust.

Why did he do that, murderer, _murderer,_ no, she's dea-

With a thump, Peter rolls off the bed, and jolts awake on the floor. The blankets are in a suffocatingly tight embrace around his body, and he can't get out, and everything's too close, and he's a _murderer_ and-

"Jesus kid, breathe."

He gives a few more wheezing breaths, as Mister Stark sits next to him, cross-legged on the ground.

Oh god.

He just had a nightmare in front of _the_ Tony Stark, and now he's going to think how much of a baby he's being and-

"Kid, you're fine, just breathe with me."

He's hyperventilating again. And to think, he was supposed to be having a relaxing weekend building robots at the Avengers Tower, and then he has a stupid nightmare to ruin it all.

Gold star for him.

Peter sucks in a few more breaths before rolling out of the blanket sheets. "Mister Stark, I'm so sorry, I don't know why I did that. I shouldn't have woken you up, I really am sorry-"

Mister Stark holds up both hands, "Slow down, everything's fine."

Peter sheepishly sits up from the ground, and tosses the blankets back on the bed.

Mister Stark gives a small snort of amusement, "Anyways, I was already awake, so you don't have to be worrying about waking me up."

He waves a hand at the wrinkled bedsheets and the mound of blankets. "But seriously, what was that?"

Peter stares down at his hands. _Strangling the life out of som-_

"Just a nightmare."

He can feel Mister Stark's gaze on him, and he shifts uncomfortably, because what if he figures out what an absolute messed up person he was?

"Did it have to do anything with the girl and the robber on the news?"

Peter looks up quickly, and meets Mister Stark's analytical gaze (why does he get psychic powers too?). He gives a tiny nod.

Mister Stark just sighs, and then scoots over towards Peter.

"Kid, you know that it wasn't your fault."

This time, Peter can't help but let out the bitter laugh that spills out of him, because that's what everyone's been saying, but they don't know what he knows.

They don't know what it feels like to strangle the life out of another person.

They don't know what it feels like to _want_ to murder someone.

Mister Stark gives him a look, and awkwardly glances downwards, fiddling with his hands.

"I-I've killed a lot of people in my life, and I completely understand the responsibility that comes with... wanting to end someone's life, no matter what other people think…"

He trails off, rubbing a spot on his chest. He takes another deep breathe, "But there's not any use blaming yourself, kid, when you can be using that for something else. In the end, it's fate that puts down the nasty pieces, and it's up to you to throw them together in a working robot. Sometimes, things malfunction, but you just have to hammer them together, and hope they stick."

That's… something to think about.

Mister Stark suddenly stands up, brushing off invisible dust off his oil-stained pants, and offers a hand to Peter. "I'm a bit allergic to the touchy-feely talk."

Peter can't hide his snort of laughter as he pulls himself up with the hand offered.

Mister Stark gives him a mock betrayed look as he strides out the room. But before he leaves, he calls out, "You're a good kid, Pete. But don't make the same mistakes as I did, because blaming yourself is never worth the trouble."

* * *

When MJ saunters in the lunchroom a week later, Peter lets out an inaudible sigh of relief.

She slides into a seat, and elbows Peter, "I heard that you were blaming yourself for what happened."

Peter shrugs, and frantically looks at Ned for help, who makes an it's-all-up-on-you shrug, and casually looks away.

He has such good friends.

MJ smirks at him, "Good, you better not be feeling guilty, or I'll be giving you more Decathlon questions to practice."

Really, _really_ good friends.

But a warm feeling bubbles up inside of him, because he actually has a family he can fully trust. Not like before, when he had to walk the path alone.

He laughs at Ned and MJ when they begin bickering over the next slice of Ned's pizza, because yep, he definitely could get used to this.

* * *

 **And... that's the last chapter of this series! Hope you guys enjoyed the ride as much as I did, and thanks for all your guys' reviews, follows, and favs; they really do make my day.** **Sorry about the late post for this chapter, since I was away for most of the past two weeks, but I made this chapter a bit longer to compensate.** **I'm currently thinking about another project, and hopefully that's going to come out real soon, but adios for now, and thanks again for sticking with the ride!**

 **Btw, yes, if you haven't figured it out yet, MJ knows Peter's secret identity, cause she's observant like that.**


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